Poetry of Kansas

The Little Church

I love a little church, a plain, old fashioned meeting-house,
    Hard by a traveled road, or on a wind-swept hill;
Where the people stand to sing: "All hail the power,"
    And each reverent knee is bent before the heavenly will.
I love the pleasant folks, neighbor-like and friendly;
    I love the bent gray heads that crowd the narrow pews;
Restless children bobbing up and down upon the hard seats,
    While the preacher reads aloud the foreign mission news.
There's a tuneful choir of frogs, somewhere in the hollow;
    Through the open window comes a breath of meadow-sweet.
There's a holy stillness that is like a benediction,
    Making every little pew a perfect glory-seat.
I've no religion that the dear Lord would be thinking of,
    But I love His little church wherever it may be.
"Alas, and did my Saviour bleed," and "All hall the power,"
    And "Holy, Holy, Holy,"____they are fine enough for me.

The Call of Kansas and Other Poems
Esther M. (Clark) Hill
(Cedar Rapids: Torch Press. __)
Page 43

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November 11, 2002 / John & Susan Howell / Wichita, Kansas / howell@kotn.org

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